


Taking Things Slow

by BigEvilShine



Category: Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8732149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigEvilShine/pseuds/BigEvilShine
Summary: A Soul Mate AU based on touch, where a bond is formed at the first skin to skin contact between a fated pair. Which seems straightforward enough but somehow Rhys and Jack manage to fuck it all up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This soul mate au is based on [this post](http://retxcentarchive.tumblr.com/post/118087096842/soulmate-aus-where-touch-is-an-important-element) here. The quick and dirty: finding soul mates is done through touch, a bond forming when a matched pair first brush skin to skin. Once a bond is formed, touch between a pair is heightened to new levels. It can go both ways however, while skinship can heal and bring contentment and calm going without can bring about dreaded heartsickness and potentially a lethal case of heart break. 
> 
> Basically strap in bitches bcuz idk how else to describe this AU

“Saturday?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, okay. Um, Thursday, then.”

“Nooope.”

“Sunday.”

“There a part of _we’re slammed this week_ you’re not gettin’ ?”

“…Friday night?”

“Kitten, beetle bug, butter bean , you know I love ya but you’re _reeeally_ tryin’ my patience here,” Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching and rolling his shoulders. He sighed, nearly moaning at the row of pops shooting up his back and the flood of warm easy muscle melt that spread through his body. He hadn’t been kidding about their workload. Jack had been in the office since…well he wasn’t sure he’d actually left it in the last twenty four hours.

“Sorry, I was just,” Rhys deflated with a whoosh of air, shoulders slumping and feet shuffling where he stood in front of Jack’s desk. “I was just excited about the dating thing this month,” Rhys admitted, setting a hand on his hip and shrugging.

“That soul mate handholding bullshit?” Jack snorted, patronizing smirk a little burnt around the edges. “Damn. Wouldn’t want to meet mine at a frikkin’ speed dating night at some dump ass bistro.” Jack slumped back over his desk, shuffling ECHO tablets around and sneering at post it notes and color coded sticky tabs reminding him of more shit that had piled up.

“It’s not bullshit,” Rhys defended halfheartedly, rubbing at his own dark circled eyes and yawning. Jack squinted. How long had Rhys been here with him?

“It’s quick, anyone who’s only interested in soul mates leaves after the first round. So…yeah.” That was one of the least convincing arguments for the speed dating sessions that Jack had ever heard. He knew the concept was straightforward enough. A group of unmatched singles would show up and go through a quick period of hand shaking and introductions. In a perfect world a pair would touch, feel the sting of a world shaking soul match, and then they’d take it from there like adults. Any that didn’t find the other half of their bond would remain for the evening to go through an otherwise casual bout of meeting other eligible singles. It was a little desperate for Jack’s tastes but he wasn’t some lonely peon feeling the hollow drain of their short pathetic existence weighing on his shoulders.

He also wasn’t unmatched.

“Didn’t ask for a lecture, sweetheart. You’re not getting time off until this shitstorm blows over, so go sit your cute ass down and get to work or do something useful and get me a – “ he was interrupted by the soft tap of a coffee cup on his desk. Jack looked between the coffee, already knowing it was just how he took it, and his loyal little assistant who was giving the mountains of unsorted ECHO tablets a hopeless look. Jack snagged the cup, gulping a mouthful of the over sweetened and sugary diabetic masterpiece.

“You do good work,” Jack sat the cup down. Rhys made a noise acknowledging he’d heard, then another more surprised one when Jack’s hand was suddenly petting through his hair. Rhys had been too wrapped up in his own minor depression at missing yet another chance of putting himself out there romantically thanks to work to notice Jack getting up and leaning across the desk. Rhys’s fingers tightened over the tablet against his chest, face turning pink as the hair ruffling warmed him up and set a gentle buzz down to his chest. When Jack pulled his hand back Rhys grumbled some small, expected sound of disgruntlement and complained about his messy hair while Jack laughed too loudly and settled down back to work. Rhys huffed and sat down at his own desk, across the room from Jack’s but still facing the CEO. Despite the rejected proposal for time off Rhys was having a hard time staying mad, a nice hum from Jack’s praising scaring away his unhappy thoughts for now.

Jack spun back and forth in his desk chair, leaning back and glaring at the ceiling while his flexing hand. The same hand that was now the starter of a pleased blush to his mood while at the same time making his attitude twist fouler. It had been eleven months since Rhys had been taken on as Jack’s personal assistant. Eleven fucking months of a half competent worker and a complete dumbass of a person sharing Jack’s time and space.

Eleven months since he and Rhys had soul bonded.

Eleven months of Rhys just not realizing.

Jack had no idea what the hell was wrong with the kid, with their bond, that Rhys didn’t realize what had happened. He’d sure looked like he felt the effects when it had happened. It was cliché as hell, their meeting. The first time they’d met on a one to one level. Jack had been having a shit day; everywhere he looked some other asshole employee was fucking up and making his life harder. A project update was due out from some department, one that Jack couldn’t remember the name of anymore, and the real lovely kicker was that this assessment was a week overdue.

In other words, someone was getting killed over this.

Jack would find out later that Rhys was only a middle manager, an assistant to someone that was the assistant to someone else’s assistant to the department’s lead. He’d been roped into delivering the department’s assessment when cornered by three of his higher ups who’d made it abundantly clear in all ways but with words that Rhys would either play delivery boy or he could kiss his position goodbye.

So there came in Rhys, anxiously coming to stand in front of Jack’s desk on legs trembling like a newborn faun’s. Which, Rhys had always been a fairly smart cupcake when it came to business matters, was exactly what he should be doing. Jack was in need of some stress relief. Cracking his knuckles Jack had gotten to his feet, ready for the upcoming little spat.

“Chop chop, spit it out, why are ya here?” Jack waved a hand impatiently, coming to lean against the edge of the desk just in front of the twitchy kid.

“I have a report,” Rhys had flushed at his own voice cracking, stopping to clear his throat while turning a nice pink color. “I have a report from Data-Mining.” Jack looked over the tall drink of water in front of him with lazy half lidded eyes. Rhys was a tall thing, not so slender as to qualify as waiflike but definitely not as broad as Jack. He wouldn’t last in a fight, which was good news because Jack was in the mood to wrap his hands around that sweet pale throat, but that cybernetic arm might be an issue. Considering his options, Jack stalled for time and entertainment.

“Sooo, exactly when was this report due? ‘Cause, ah, definitely wasn’t supposed to be coming in today.”

Rhys gulped, hands visibly trembling around the tablet he held. “It was due on the twelfth.”

“Hmm? Come again?” Jack cupped his ear, raising his brows. “Coulda sworn I heard something that pisses me off immensely.” At that Rhys obviously cowered, shoulders rising up near his ears and head pulling back as his arms came in closer to his torso. Good instincts, he knew what was coming.

“It was due last week. It’s l-late,” Rhys’ voice had lost all strength, words spoken in despondent softness.

“Ahhh, that’s a shame. You know we have a zero tolerance policy, what am I gonna do with you, pumpkin?” Jack asked with mock sympathy. Rhys had given up the concept of pleading his case, correctly guessing the futility of it, and simply squeezed his eyes shut bracing for the worst. Jack snorted at the sight, this stringy jerkoff looking like a frightened bunny, and couldn’t resist one last patronizing nose flick before he got to work.

The breath was punched out of his chest like a train had hit him.

Jack gasped, no air coming as he stuttered and fought against the winded sensation in his chest. A fuzz of static struck through him from head to toe, tingling and stinging at the tips of his fingers and toes while he stared hard and frantic at Rhys who was likewise gasping and taking a quick shocked step back.

“Oh no you don’t you – “ Jack shot forward, fingers digging into Rhys’s jacket and popping stitches as he yanked him forward. Rhys’ squeak was cut off as Jack’s broad arms tightened around his throat, securing the kid in a headlock.

“ **WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?** ” Jack bellowed. Rhys scrambled in his arms, those legs kicking out and heels clicking against the ground as his hands shot up to dig into Jack’s forearms. Jack wasn’t about to let up his grip on the kid, holding tight and growing more lethal by the second, and wasn’t looking for an actual answer. Jack wasn’t some idiot; whatever the hell just hit him was some kind of percussive strike – clearly a failed attempt at assassination. Some attempt, it barely felt like anything, in fact Jack was kind of thrilled at it. His skin was humming all along where he had the kid trapped, heart hammering and blood pumping with renewed passion he hadn’t felt for a really fuckin’ long time. That was when the brat completely crumpled beneath him, legs slipping out and sending them both crashing into the ground. Jack struck his elbow on the way down, cursing at the hit that had one arm go numb long enough for Rhys to slip out.

“I work for you!” Rhys gasped, pushing Jack off him and attempting to crawl away. Jack snarled, a hand darting out and gripping the brat’s ankle, tugging him back hard and making Rhys yelp.

“Where is it, where’s your shitty pulse charge or whatever the hell you’re using?” Jack snapped, climbing over Rhys and pinning the metal wrist between his own stomach and the small of Rhys’ back. Jack was all focus as he searched for the device, feeling under clothes and checking in pockets and around the kid’s belt for something that didn’t belong. Rhys squirmed under his weight, stuttering out his name and position at Hyperion as if Jack would just believe that. Jack grimaced when he came up with nothing, shaking his head because that couldn’t be right. He was on a roll here, he was feelin’ it, and he just had a good feeling that he was right. Grinning through the rush he pushed a hand under Rhys’ dress shirt, past the under shirt and palming a flat expanse of warm belly.

“Ha-Handsome Jack, s-sir!” Rhys giggled, arching away from the touch. Jack kept his full weight over Rhys, riding the spasms rocking the younger man as the kid tried and failed to keep his laughter in check.

“Ticklish, huh you little shit?” Jack grinned, stomach curling with excitement at the feeling of the younger man pressed under him. “Wouldn’t have to torture ya if you’d give up whatever shit offensive shield mod you had hidden.”

" _I dooon’t_ ,” Rhys whined, turning so he could look at Jack over his shoulder and press half his overheated face into the cold marble flooring. “I’m not hiding anything; I was dropping off the report!” Jack was a skeptical man but no matter how many times he ran his hands over Rhys he always came back empty handed. Rhys was panting from fits of giggling and worn out from being manhandled. Jack hadn’t realized he’d let go of the metal limb until he’d caught himself rubbing both palms over Rhys’ bare chest in what was slowly becoming clear to be a wild goose chase. Rhys didn’t have anything on him but a packet of fruit flavored gum. Pausing, Jack glared at nothing while he lay over the kid, cheek pressed against the back of Rhys’ neck and hands still occupied lightly petting the middle manager’s sides as they both caught their breath.

Rhys didn’t have anything on him that could possibly cause the rush from earlier. While Jack had been on him Rhys had only made moves to escape, never going on the offensive. If he really were an assassin then he was one of the shittiest Jack had ever encountered. Mind racing, brow tight, Jack reassessed the situation. Why was Rhys even alive still, why was Jack just content to pet on him, and what was with all this keyed up pleasurable sting tingling over his skin and through his body, particularly thick where he and Rhys were skin to skin?

When the answer hit him Jack felt himself go cold.

A soul match.

“Oh _fuck_.”

“Huh?” Rhys mumbled, blinking out of the pleased haze of a newly created soul mate bond and the immense amount of physical contact that had drugged the both of them. Jack sat back, fingers twitching as he got to his feet and moved to create space between them. Rhys was confused as he clambered back onto his semi stable legs, pink in the face and giving Jack the biggest pair of puppy eyes the CEO had seen in a long time. It didn’t quite tug Jack out of the personal crisis at hand.

Soul mates once matched were set for good. The bond was as physical as it was something else, something that had to be satisfied with touch. Jack crossed his arms, shoving his still warm and tingly hands into his armpits as he tried to tamp down the frenetic energy crackling with madness through his middle. Now that he and Rhys were bonded they had to be together, had to touch and caress and share one another’s bodies or they’d both end up sick. It was a spot of vulnerability, something that could potentially be used against Rhys but more importantly Jack. It wasn’t uncommon for political figures to be targeted through their soul mates, no one wanted to suffer through the months and months of potentially lethal heartsickness that cropped up when their match was killed or permanently removed from providing that addictive, medicinal touch. Jack clenched his fists. And, just to twist the knife, Rhys was completely not Jack’s type. He liked tough as fuck women with tight bodies and sick as hell trigger discipline. Not weak as water string bean middle managers that had probably never held a gun in his life.

“Son of a _taint_.”

“Handsome Jack sir?” Rhys asked softly, flush slowly leaving his skin as he began awkwardly fixing his clothes. Rhys fidgeted, doing his best to button his shirt and tuck the fabric back into his pants to hide away the slice of creamy hip and belly. Jack swallowed, throat suddenly dry as he spotted a pattern of blue curving blue ink peeking out from the crooked neckline that Rhys was quick to hide away under a fixed tie, hands soon coming down to self consciously smooth at the wrinkles framing his svelte waist and thighs. Jack blinked, attention darting back to his soul mate’s face, the soft clear skin and high cheekbones against seashell pink lips and big scared doe eyes.

Okay so maybe he could have ended up with a worse match. 

“Name,” Jack cleared his throat, “need a name here, cupcake.” He needed to know who the hell had just made themselves a permanent fixture in his life.

“Rhys.”

Jack nodded, his sneaker tapping as he set his hands on his hips to keep from further obvious fidgeting. “Right, alright. Rhys. That’s, that’s the name.” Jack wasn’t freaking out.

“Are…are you okay sir?” Rhys asked again. He seemed to be taking the news a lot better than Jack, almost as if –

No.

It. Definitely wasn’t that…that Rhys couldn’t tell?

“Fine, buttercup, ‘m fine,” Jack rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the sudden lurch in his chest at the idea. He had to, that’s how this shit works. “How about you, feelin’ alright about all this?” Jack worded carefully. Rhys blinked, a beat passed, and then the color came rushing back to his face.

“Hah, um, y-yeah. I’m, it’s amazing to meet you, sir,” Rhys’ smile was doing bad, terrible, fucking wonderful things to Jack’s stomach. “It’s, overwhelming? And uh, sorry about the, I don’t know what that was. So, sorry about that? Though I’m, I mean,” Rhys pointedly glanced to the ground they’d been wrestling on, finishing his thought in a strangled breathy laugh.

Jack grunted because yes. That had been nice. Now that the initial buzz of the contact had worn off Jack felt a warm lull spreading through him, his muscles going lax like he’d been soaking in a hot bath. It was a fantastic feeling and he knew in his gut that he had to have more. Rhys, despite not being the worst thing to look at, wasn’t the brightest and Jack was willing to let things lay where they fell. Rhys didn’t know they were matched. All Jack needed was to keep the kid close, steal a few quick touches to keep their bond benign, it would be better for the both of them.

“So, ah, Rhys was it?” Jack asked for show, he’d already burned the kid’s name into the fibers of his brain, “ever thought about workin’ under me, sugar?”


	2. Chapter 2

The day Rhys met Jack was one of the most baffling experiences of Rhys’ life. He’d walked into Jack’s office sure he wasn’t going to be making it out alive. His department had set him up, that much was obvious. His bosses and their bosses were quick to kick him into the skag den; either take this late report to Jack or be demoted and likely have an _accident_ , because no one at Hyperion would ever let a grudge go.

The, uh, the tickle fight wasn’t expected.

Rhys had spent the rest of the day on a high. Just floated back to his department, all the glares and confused sneers from his coworkers bouncing off the haze enveloping him, and sat in his cramped cubicle staring at his screensaver until it was time to clock out. Handsome Jack had tickled him and then offered him a job? And it wasn’t some drugged up hallucination or late night fantasy?

It was fucking awesome.

When Rhys had given Vaughn and Yvette the quick and dirty of the situation over dinner Vaughn had gotten to his feet, rounded the table, grabbed Rhys by the shoulders and dragged him out if his chair to shake him senseless. Yvette was calling him an idiot and giving Rhys’ floppy smile her own nasty looks. It was coming from a good place but even Vaughn shouting that Rhys was an idiot and this promotion could never be good news wasn’t enough to burn off the happy silly fog blurring up his brain.

“Do you really think Handsome Jack would just make you his PA out of the blue?” Vaughn shouted while shaking Rhys until his head was flopping back and forth. “That doesn’t strike you as even a _little_ suspicious?”

“He’s right, you idiot. Jack’s got ulterior motives,” Yvette mumbled around a mouthful of burrito.

Rhys snorted, blinking out of his stupor, “I mean. _God_. I hope so.”

Everyone groaned, Vaughn tossing Rhys back in his chair and Yvette throwing a garlic knot at Rhys’ head.

Rhys was surprised at how accommodating Jack was when Rhys’ stint as PA began. It was a rocky start, Rhys had never worked solely as a personal assistant before so the learning curve was there, but at least Jack’s former PA was sticking around to train Rhys for the first two weeks. The first mistake made after this grace period came in an incorrect coffee order.

“Rhysie,” Jack snapped his fingers, whistling like he was calling a dog and pointing to the spot next to his throne. Rhys had scrambled over, legs already starting to tremble. Jack didn’t waste time shoving his full coffee cup in Rhys’ hands. “So, that taste like five shots of espresso and triple chocolate syrup? How about that whipped topping there, you see any caramel drizzle or dark cocoa powder?” Jack asked tightly. Rhys bit his cheek, already knowing he’d fucked up the order just from the plain topping capping off the steaming drink.

“I’m s-sorry, I’ll get a new – “

“Wow, you got taste buds in your eyes kitten?” Jack interrupted, lounging back in his chair and folding his beefy arms. Rhys blushed because he really needed to not be describing his boss as _beefy_.

“N-no, sorry,” Rhys mumbled, apologetically and obediently taking a sip of the warm drink. It was good by Rhys’ standards, creamy and sweet and tasting of the overly expensive gourmet roast coffee beans that had been used in its preparation with a hint of chocolate. So, totally not what Jack had ordered. Rhys pulled the cup back and self consciously licked the whipped cream from his upper lip and hoped to god there wasn’t any spotted on the end of his nose.

“Nah ah ah, kiddo. You shit the bed here, don’t waste my money or that nasty ass crap you ordered,” Jack chastised with quirked brow. Rhys stared, thoughts skidding to a halt as the words processed.

“You…want it?” Rhys frowned because that couldn’t be right, right? He must have looked so lost Jack decided to take pity and stood up, moving into Rhys’s space and tapping his fingers on the bottom of the cup, insistently pressing up until Rhys found the cup tipping back to his lips.

“Don’t. Waste. A. Drop,” Jack murmured, eyes too close and too bright. A shiver crawled up Rhys’ back and he closed his eyes, unsure if he could do as asked with Jack staring so intently only a few hand lengths away. Rhys could feel the other man’s body heat he was so near, his tipping on the cup so insistent Rhys could either drink or spill the liquid all over himself. With a deep breath through his nose Rhys did what a good little PA would do.

The first few gulps were easy, pleasant even. The flavor was something Rhys enjoyed and the warmth filling his belly was nice. Halfway through Rhys’ pace began to slow, his stomach full and satisfied. Chancing it Rhys opened his eyes and immediately regretted it, what he could see around the whipped topping and cup’s rim was all Jack. The CEO was focused and his crooked, perfect grin only grew when he caught the pitiful tilt of Rhys’s eyebrows.

“C’mon kitten, you can do it. Juuust about half way through,” Jack cooed and shifted his grip on the cup, more firmly manipulating it while his other hand came to slide hotly across Rhys’ neck and sit strongly holding the back of his head as the cup tilted over further.

Rhys choked, jolting as warm liquid threatened to spill before frantically gulping down what he could. Jack was now miserably close, practically holding them flush as he had Rhys drink in some perverted facsimile to bottle feeding a child. It was humiliating and Rhys hoped the burn in his cheeks wasn’t too obvious and that his hands weren’t obviously sweaty under where Jack’s rougher palm held them in place.

Jack proved less distracting the closer Rhys came to the bottom of the cup. His stomach was now past a pleasant fullness and was beginning to ache, the sweet and earthy flavor gone from the constant assault on his tongue. Nearing the last bit he was straining to suck down air through his nose while Jack more actively tilted the cup until the final dregs of sludgey, grainy chocolate syrup poured messy down his throat. Rhys pulled back with a gasp, grimacing and running his teeth over tongue at the soured sweet taste and groaning at the uncomfortable strain against his belt.

“Aw, you did it pumpkin! Knew ya could,” Jack beamed, hand dropping from Rhys’ hair to give a rough squeeze to his shoulder. Rhys grimaced, already mourning the lunch he’d have to skip to keep his calorie count down and his own coffee that there was no way in hell he’d be touching. Then came a rough thumb scrubbing at the corner of Rhys’ mouth and he froze up, miserable and sick feeling and still he couldn’t keep from staring wide eyed as Jack pulled his chocolate syrup smudged thumb back and popped it past his own lips. Jack’s indulgent groan made Rhys’ hands tremble at his sides and his pants feel oddly tighter.

“Mm, maybe it woulda tasted better offa you, right kitten?” Jack purred, cat’s grin cracking wide and predatory at the younger man’s sharp intake of breath. “Now go get me another coffee and get it right this time or we’ll get to do this all over again.”

Rhys hasn’t messed up a coffee order since.

That didn’t stop Jack from taking such a hands on approach to his weird system of punishment and rewards. Rhys was constantly having an arm thrown around his shoulders, receiving patronizing cheek pats and ass slaps, and Rhys was thriving on it. The touches weren’t unwelcome, it fed Rhys’ sick little crush, and always left him buzzing with some in between of satisfaction and happiness to have received any attention from Handsome Jack himself. So much so that when Jack left for days long business trips it would leave Rhys in a funk. He’d get twitchy without Jack around, a low level of anxiety filling him up until he was incapable of sleeping properly. At one point Jack had been gone for a week and a half, his longest stint since Rhys had started as his assistant, and Rhys was working through his third night with no sleep and a strange cramp in his chest was beginning to worry him.

But when Jack had come strutting into the office at midday, grinning and broad and charismatic and perfect, Rhys was set at ease at a dizzying quickness.

“How’d ya hold things down? No wait, let me guess. You ruined a merger? Said something adorably stupid and now half our investors have backed out – oh, or did ya unleash a fatal flesh eating disease on Pandora?” Jack had finished on a hopeful note as he dragged Rhys over to him, strong arm secure around Rhys’ waist. The familiar feel of Jack’s body, of his warmth, had Rhys nearly melting into him, his overactive under rested mind easing away from a throbbing head ache Rhys hadn’t realized he’d had for two days now.

“No such luck,” Rhys managed to sigh after a moment, not bothering to pull away like he usually would as Jack pulled him over to the office couch and had them both sit while they were still pressed close. Jack grunted, giving Rhys a squeeze so tight Rhys made a small beep sound in discomfort.

“Ah, well, next time,” Jack yawned, spare hand coming up to knead over his eyes. Rhys was too tired to get off the couch, feeling a bit gluttonous for Jack in his own sour little unrequited love way, so he brought up his metal palm between them and flicked on a holodisplay hoping to get enough work done to look busy. That plan was scrapped when Jack grabbed at the metal limb and frowned, manipulating the joints with an experts touch and producing the most miniscule of creaks. Jack narrowed his eyes.

“There a reason why you’re arm’s dry as shit?” Jack asked darkly. Rhys stiffened a bit, staring down at his hand and trying to keep up his poker face. He hadn’t even thought about his weekly tune up, so caught up in the mess of work and his own weird strained emotions.

“I-I only missed one,” Rhys swallowed dryly under Jack’s glare, “or two checkups. There’s still oil in the joints, it’s not bad.” He could feel his heart beat like butterfly wings in his chest, unable to do more than glance at Jack – and oh he was definitely pissed. Yeah, this was…not a great position to be in. He hoped Jack couldn’t feel his heart beat considering how close they were sitting.

“I leave for frikkin’ two days and you start fallin’ the hell apart,” Jack growled, arm tightening around Rhys’ shoulders.

“It’s been way more than two days, give me some credit here.”

Jack grunted. “That did feel like for-goddamn-ever. When it was, uh…”

“Ten days. Well uh, ten and a half if we’re counting today,” Rhys said, content to lean on Jack and let him play mindlessly with his hand. He sighed quietly, hoping Jack wouldn’t notice or particularly mind if he rest his cheek on Jack’s shoulder, Rhys’ eyes drifting shut.

Jack felt days of exhaustion weighing down his body, pinning him in place. He wasn’t stupid, he knew the bond was going to make travel a problem but just how draining it was without his daily dose of Rhys was worrying. It was going to be a problem if Jack wanted to stay in top shape while travelling. His gut twisted at the concept of being without Rhys again, not at all fond of the physical ache in his muscles and sleepless nights full of heart ache. Jack looked down at the mess of his PA, Rhys already asleep and nuzzled into Jack’s neck. Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

That’s cute.

The sight sent a wash of sleepiness over him. Barely able to shift them both into a more comfortable position, Jack pressed his nose into Rhys’ hair and inhaled his boy’s scent. Exhaling slowly he lounged back into the couch cushions and balanced his chin over Rhys’ crown, dropping off into a heavy warm dreamless sleep as Rhys cuddled in close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk u guys. i just see jack havin this intense need to fill rhys up n like, every way u can imagine that. 
> 
> also: no plot today yall just some fuckn cuddles


	3. Chapter 3

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d love for it to happen, but it seems like some kinda – kinda,” Rhys’ date squinted hard at his beer bottle, “um. What’s the word I’m looking for here…”

“Encroachment on free will,” Rhys supplied in monotone, barely more interested in this blind date than he was in his Long Island iced tea.

“Fwuah – wow. Damn. Didn’t put on your profile that you’re a mind reader,” the man gushed, smiling goofily and utterly drunkenly. Rhys didn’t know whether he’d accidentally gone out with an alcoholic or if there was just something so abysmal about Rhys that drove the guy to downing bottle after bottle. Rhys’ self esteem nudged towards the latter.

“I’m not. I’ve just heard this subject talked to death.” By bitter old spinsters and edgy teens who had such nice cushy lives they had to manufacture their own problems, he added privately. His date nodded too loosely, humming his agreement and totally missing the subtext of the words. Whatever, it wasn’t as if Rhys could even remember this guy’s name. Rhys sipped at his drink, ignoring the slurring rambling and its faux profound nature bubbling up out of his counterpart. It wasn’t anything worth listening to, just another person parroting thoughts and opinions they’d heard on the net and agreed with despite not putting in any intellectual labor of their own to decide if the concept was actually legit.

What a waste. Actual months of trying to work in an evening off for dating and Rhys ended up with some slob that couldn’t be bothered with the proper social graces to not bestow everyone in the bar with his loud intoxicated voice. Rhys sighed, checking the time display on his ECHOeye’s HUD and debating whether or not it was late enough that he could get away with calling it a night and escape to his apartment. Hide away from awkward social interactions and try to recover through ice cream therapy from this mess.

Rhys’ dour thoughts stalled when a message notification popped into his feed. Subtly checking that his date was still occupied gesticulating wildly while talking to the bartender, Rhys opened his HUD’s instant messaging app.

>>Handsome Jack:  
>>havn fun on ur d8

Rhys felt a mild interest for the first time in the evening. Sending hands off replies were harder than the alternative but Rhys was sitting down so he wasn’t under any threat of walking face first into a wall while typing.

<>Handsome Jack:  
>>lyk i wouldnt kno y my kitten was so excitd 2 go home 2day  
>>btw u could do way bettr  
>>p sure that dick cheez is gonna puke on u b4 the nyt is ovr

Jack wasn’t being sly by just ignoring what Rhys had said about the text embargo, they’d exchanged contact info for professional reasons and aside from a few check ins that bordered on asking Rhys how his day was going the unspoken rule had never been broken before. Rhys would chew on that thought later because whatever his name was had just taken a shot from the on the house tray that was going around complements of someone’s twenty-first birthday, and honestly Rhys had already been worried that he might have to deal with a helpless drunk at the end of the night.

Additionally, not to be overshadowed by the possibility of having to endure anymore boring exposure to this fledgling alcoholic, Rhys was wearing one of his nicer suit jackets and getting covered in vomit was just going to be the shit cherry on the top of this crappy date sundae. Rhys finished off the last bit of his own drink in one go and clacked the glass down on the bar top, waving a wordless no thanks when the nearest bartender asked if he wanted anything else. It was time to bounce, he was just wasting both their time by sticking around anyways. Licking the last bit of sticky sweet flavor from his lips Rhys was struck with something aside from his briefly inflamed buzz.

# ...

“A month?”

“Yuuup.”

“That’s - how is Hyperion supposed to – “

“I know, I know, I know. It’s not gonna be as hands off as my usual trips are though, I’ll run my baby long distance. It’ll be just like usual. Don’t shit your pants, butter bean.”

Rhys wasn’t pouting. “But. You’re not going to be here.” Why did that make his heart drop into his stomach? It wasn’t like he’d have more work to do if what Jack was saying was true. Actually it was always a cake walk when he didn’t need to babysit Jack. His confused moping was interrupted by a familiar hand rubbing all through his hair, making Rhys grumble and swat at it for daring to ruin his styling.

“My adorable little Rhysie beanie baby lookin’ so sad I’ll be gone even after he’s been such an annoying little disobedient shit lately,” Jack cooed rudely. Rhys grunted, rolling his eyes and trying to fix his hair.

“Whatever, try not to cause an international incident while you’re gone.”

Jack clicked his tongue, “wow, that was like one time. Totally not fair that you keep bringing it up.”

Jack departed after he and Rhys were confident that they’d gone over every possible thing that could go wrong and the five ways to resolve each potential issue. Rhys was quick to use his newfound free time tying off loose ends that had been bothering him for weeks. Namely harassing each department’s heads into doing their goddamn paperwork.

Rhys was done with R&D by day five of Jack’s absence, taking the elevator line down to the intellectual property and patent offices on the sixth. He rubbed at his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose to alleviate the pressure of a head ache that had woken him up that morning and was still going hard despite the notable amount of water and pain killers he’d been popping all day.

The barrage of data he had to process through the next three days put his cybernetics and squishy human body to work. Downloading and sorting through zip files, reading and organizing and updating his own personal logs to match, and emailing a few pressing pieces of information. Waking up on the ninth morning it took Rhys two solid minutes to fully drag himself out of the unconscious, eyes fluttering as his internal alarm clock tweaked his mind awake through a synthetic flush of hormones and sending his single hand flailing for a physical alarm clock that he didn’t have. He blinked hard for another handful of seconds before he was able to focus enough to cut off the waking routine, dropping back boneless on the bed and staring thoughtlessly at the wall facing his bed. Groaning, Rhys pressed a hand to his face and roughly dragged it up and down as if he could press the exhaustion out of his skin. His body ached as he pushed himself up in bed, back stiff and aching with each movement and thoughts dragging at a snail’s pace.

He considered taking the day off.

Rhys found himself in the elevator carriage headed to human resources before deciding against it. Wincing at a particularly sharp jab in his skull Rhys slipped his bottle of pain killers out of his bag, swallowing down what was almost the proper dosage.

The head ache didn’t go away.

Each day seemed to bring a new ailment. Rhys went to bed one night realizing he hadn’t eaten since the half a bagel he had at lunch the day before. Then came the random cramps, a difficulty falling asleep, and by the fourteenth day he could hardly breathe through the strain knotting his chest. Coughing didn’t help and when it didn’t go away after he dragged himself through the shower and forced down a few bites of dry cereal Rhys figured he should probably take the day off. He was just over working himself.

When the ache woke him up from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his body struggling to work against what felt like bruising down to his bones just to catch his breath, Rhys decided maybe he needed to see someone about this. Rhys didn’t bother changing out of his lounge wear when he managed to drag himself out of the house, forgoing his tedious grooming routine for an elastic headband before trudging down to medical. He’d doubted the rationale of his decision a bit until something warm ran over his lips. Tugging up the hem of his sleeve Rhys scrubbed at his mouth and chin, unable to feel any surprise at the bright red smears left behind.

<>Handsome Jack:  
>>tell me about it

<>Handsome Jack:  
>>ur my problm

Rhys made a face, head swimming. Was he just feeling sick or did that not make any sense? Was it supposed to? He shook his head. Jack was always weird, saying crazy things, whatever. Rhys had other things to focus on, such as the doctor calling his name and walking him back to their little cubby hole visiting rooms. Rhys plopped onto the sanitary paper covered bench, letting the woman in the white doctor’s coat set to work fussing with him.

“So you look awful,” the physician was kind enough to be blunt. Rhys smiled at her, though it came off as a watery spasm of the lips.

“Feel really bad, thought I should come in.”

“And right you were on that one. Lie back and let’s have a look at you.”

The appointment drifted by with a lot of questions and general health measures that started at listening to his breathing through a stethoscope and escalated to a blood sample. Rhys was still lying down, wiping a damp paper towel over his nose and mouth to clean up the mess from his nose bleed, when the doctor clicked her tablet’s stylus back into its nook with a sense of finality.

“So. Nothing serious, which is good. Isn’t good if you were looking for a doctor’s note to get out of work, you know how Hyperion is,” the doctor wiggled her fingers. Rhys’ mistook the gesture for something else and handed her the wad of blood smeared wipes.

“Then what’s going on with me?” he asked, throat a little raspy. The physician filled a paper cup with water from the sink in the room, pushing the cup into Rhys’ hands.

“You’re dehydrated for one, probably haven’t been eating right for another. Chances are no sleeping?” she barely waited for Rhys to nod. “Yeah. Figured. Go home and force down some food and water then get to bed, preferably with your match. I will never know why you young professional types think you’re above heartsickness,” she clicked her teeth, shaking her head. Her emotionless face shifted into mild disgust as Rhys opened his mouth in protest, accidentally spilling his mouthful of water down his front and coughing.

“H-heartsickness?” he wheezed, clearing his throat and not fighting when the doctor snatched the half empty cup out of his hand. “No, okay, that’s not possible.”

She raised an eyebrow, one hand planting itself on a cocked hip. “You wanna try me here, bucko?”

“Not, like, not like you don’t know what you’re doing, I’m sure you’re great at your job!” Rhys backtracked, head throbbing as he searched for the most tactful way to tell her that she definitely wasn’t good at her job if that was her professional diagnosis. “It’s just, there’s no way it’s heartsickness.”

“Alright, I can see how this is gonna go down. Listen up ‘cause I’m the one who’s drowning in student debt from decades of med school and real life fucking experience.”

Rhys’s face puckered. Rude.

“You’re not able to sleep, have no appetite, forgetting to drink, experiencing splitting headaches, entire body’s sore, and then there’s the fucking chest pain. No pre existing conditions with any of these symptoms, and you’re in perfectly fine shape for someone your age.”

“That’s not true, this happened before, just a few months ago!” Rhys gripped the edge of the bench, swaying as his irritation mixed with that dizzying throb squeezing his brain. The bitchy doctor’s nostrils flared, shoulders squaring and spreading her arms out wide and vaguely menacingly as she loomed over her patient.

“And who wasn’t around that time? Couldn’t have possibly been your mate, could it?” she actually shouted. Rhys glared, once again opening his fat mouth to spout some more shit where he acted like he knew more about the subject at hand than the paid professional who had committed her life to the subject, but then he felt a small kernel of uncertainty. He had been lonely the last time this happened, working without Jack around was never fun and he just figured – well it wasn’t anything to do with soul matches. That would be stupid.

But.

Jack being out of town was consistent with both bouts of illness. But it was still stupid! Rhys and Jack weren’t soul mates, Jack touched Rhys all the time and hey yeah it felt great for Rhys’ ego but that didn’t mean the same thing as a soul match. It was a big thing, some kind of heart stopping breath taking number that left each member of the match dazed and –

Rhys stared through the doctor.

Tickle fest.

That…that hadn’t been initiated by Rhys being stunned about meeting his hero. He slapped both hands over his face, moaning into his palms.

“Oh my god.”

“Just go home and kiss all up on your match or something, you’ll feel better in a day or two.”

“No, you don’t - ! Uuuargh I’m so stupid how am I so stupid?” Rhys was up and stumbling, shoulders knocking into walls and knees clipping chairs and coffee tables while he multi tasked running out of the office and pulling up Jack’s contact info on his HUD. Rhys was panting heavily, wiping at the smear of sweat on his brow and just realizing that he’d managed to make it into an elevator when the call went through. To voicemail. He didn’t bother censoring the pathetic whine that no doubt got caught on the recording.

“Jaaack you have to come back now,” Rhys sniffled, tearing up. The others in the elevator shifted as far from him as they could, each pretending there wasn’t someone having a meltdown not an arm’s length away. “The d-doctor said, she said,” he tried to say it but the idea was so grossly intimate and ludicrous it felt indecent to voice, “just come back now please.” Rhys managed to end the message and get off on the correct floor, only dropping his ID card twice while struggling to get inside his apartment. Ignoring his doctor’s orders Rhys struggled into his bed, burrowing under covers and shivering despite the warmth.

This was stupid. This whole fucking situation was so fucking stupid and Rhys was going to cry. Fuck it, he was crying, hiccupping like an idiot into his pillow and scrubbing uncoordinated hands against his puffy face. Each breath hitched his chest with a rough spasm, cutting each inhale short and leaving Rhys feeling light headed and dizzy. How was any of this even allowed to happen? Rhys had gone through one of the most important things that could happen in his life and he hadn’t even noticed? What the hell was wrong with him, and why hadn’t Jack said anything?

Dread boiled his middle, stomach cramping as he curled into a tense ball under the sheets. Jack didn’t say anything because he didn’t want the bond. It made sense now why Jack gave him the promotion to his personal assistant; it was a ploy to keep their bond sated without actually acknowledging it. Rhys shuddered a wet sigh, pressing his face firmly into the mattress and wishing he had the commitment to hold his breath until he passed out just so he could escape the ache spearing him through and through. Instead he suffered through wakefulness until exhaustion swept him into either sleep or a miserable detached drift.

It didn’t last nearly long enough, as someone was digging their fingers into his shoulder and shaking. Roughly Rhys wiped at his eyes, dried tears making them difficult to open, and blinked blearily up at the body leaning over him. Jack looked how Rhys felt. His hair was greasy and only vaguely styled, usual layers stripped down to a single Hyperion branded sweatshirt that was baggy and bore a stretched and unflattering neckline. Rhys was fairly sure the only reason Jack didn’t look like hot garbage was the synthetic perfection of his mask.

“Hey,” Jack smiled unevenly, voice sore and raspy.

“Hi,” Rhys croaked back. Stiffly he sat up, sheets falling back to reveal Rhys had fallen asleep with his shoes on. Jack practically swayed in place as he tossed off Rhys’ sneakers and nudged at Rhys’ hip, climbing into the space Rhys provided as he scooted to the side and made room for Jack.

“Oh my gooood,” Jack moaned, stiff joints popping as he collapsed half on top of Rhys who in turn gasped at the weight. Both men groaned as a gentle flush warmed where they lay in contact, Jack greedily pressing his face into Rhys’ neck and cupping Rhys’ cheek with a free hand. Rhys found himself clinging onto Jack, shivering as the glow flowed like a wave of tingling relief through his cramped muscles, his chest expanding as he gulped down full bodied breaths for the first time in days.

“Ugh, that’s the ticket,” Jack melted like butter, absolutely at ease and heavy over Rhys.

“You’re back early,” Rhys grunted then moaned in the back of his throat at the physical sensation of his migraine dissolving. Jack sighed damp breath against Rhys’ neck.

“Huh, almost as if I didn’t want to suffer through heartsickness after makin’ my friggin’ point or some shit,” Jack griped. Rhys wiggled beneath Jack, wheezing as he managed to roll the older man over onto his side so they were stuck facing each other but still pressed close and clinging. The proximity would have embarrassed Rhys any other time but he was just too wrung out to care anymore.

“You knew.”

“Unlike your dumb ass.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jack rolled his eyes, which Rhys realized were bloodshot. “Yeah sure let’s announce it to the world so all the assassins and mercs after my hot piece of ass can take you out and just wait for me to die of heartsickness.”

Rhys searched Jack’s face, trying to dig for a lie. Unfortunately Jack had always been someone that believed his own lies and there really wasn’t much to find under the coating of deathly tiredness still straining Jack’s eyes.

“You still could have told me.” It wasn’t unreasonable to be pissed about someone withholding information that impacted his health. Jack gave him a flat look and with a swift move shoved Rhys’ face into his chest, ending the conversation.

“Shut the hell up. Go to sleep or whatever, we’ll have the big adult emotional talk when we both don’t feel like death.” Stuck tucked into Jack’s chest Rhys sighed, shamelessly nuzzling into his boss’s pecs. Jack was out first, snoring and squeezing Rhys tighter as the younger man followed suit.

Their sleep was velvet black and dreamless, restful and energizing as the match healed with each other’s presence. Rhys woke up first and realized with all this refueled sense of being that he smelled absolutely ripe. Rolling out of Jack’s snug arms Rhys took his time showering and reuniting with his skincare routine. While styling his hair Jack ambled into the small bathroom, yawning and patting Rhys on the hip as he passed.

“Mornin’ pumpkin,” Jack leaned into the shower cabin, randomly turning knobs until warm water sprayed from overhead.

“Good morning Jack, how – aaand you’re naked,” Rhys whipped his head back from where he’d caught a shirtless jack with half his ass hanging out of the jeans he’d been kicking off. There was a raunchy cackle, then the sound of the magnetized cabin door clipping shut.

“Oh my god look at this friggin’ selection!” Jack shouted, knocking around through the wire basket and shelves home to bottles of shampoos and conditioners, body washes and sugar scrubs alongside facial cleansers and scented soaps.

“Yeah, well, put it to use because you smell like rakk hive ass,” Rhys shot back, not emotionally prepared for this early morning call out on his vices. Was it so bad that he wanted to go through life smelling like ginger root and oranges?

“Ouch. Damn, you’re hurtin’ me here, snookums. I mean I’d be more hurt if you didn’t spend the whole night shovin’ ur face in my rakk hive butt cheek smellin’ tits,” Jack said as he picked a bottle of citrus and sandalwood shampoo. Rhys chose to be the adult in the situation and finished his morning grooming and left the bathroom to wrangle up an outfit. He didn’t even consider putting effort into the day’s dress, slipping on thick aloe infused socks, jogger pants, and a tank top. While bunching the ankles of his socks in the way that he liked Jack emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following him out.

“Gimme some duds,” Jack snapped his fingers. Rhys stared at him, blank faced.

“Huh?”

“Threads, yanno, clothes?”

“…My clothes?”

“I didn’t pack a friggin’ sleep over bag, buddy. Now get me somethin’ to cover my dick or we’re gonna suffer through some deep emotional bullshit with my cock out,” Jack snapped his fingers, shooing Rhys with a wave of his hands. As much as Jack’s package was a reoccurring guest in Rhys’ fantasies he didn’t want to make its acquaintance in this atmosphere. Jack ultimately ended up in a pair of sweat pants, refusing to wear a shirt from Rhys’ college years. That was fine by Rhys, he liked the view.

“Okay, so!” Jack clapped his hands once the pair had made their way to the kitchen, both feeling hunger from days of not eating hit them like a punch to the gut, “I’m gonna make food. You can ask all your questions and shit. Try not to make it weird.”

“That’s probably impossible considering you decided to keep this shit to yourself for like a year,” Rhys sniped, sitting at the breakfast bar that sat on the opposite side of the kitchen counters. Jack rolled his eyes while rifling through Rhys’ fridge and tugging out a carton of eggs and half gallon of milk.

“I had good reasons. And I’m not the only one allowed to be pissed here, what the hell kinda moron doesn’t realize they just bonded! Where d’ya keep your pans, hon?”

“Under the stove. Oh whatever! I was walking into what was intended to be a total set up, I was meeting my hero and about to get offed, forgive me for being a bit scatterbrained,” Rhys crossed his arms, pouting.

“Oh piss off with that,” Jack threw a piece of bread at Rhys who smacked it out of the air with a grimace. “Admit you’re a friggin’ moron. Cinnamon, maple syrup, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract?”

“Left cupboard over the stove. Fine I was an idiot, moron, dumbass, etcetera. What are we going to do about this now?”

Jack sighed, loud and long and purposefully annoying. Rhys leaned his cheek against his hand, waiting for the next insane thing to come out of Jack’s mouth. It seemed Jack wasn’t in any hurry as he cracked a few eggs into a bowl and whisked them together, pouring some milk into the mix and adding cinnamon and vanilla. Dropping a few slices of bread into the egg mix, Jack dropped them in the hot buttered pan and wiped his hands, huffing as he leaned against the counter ledge and locked eyes with Rhys.

“I hope you like French toast.”

Rhys nodded. “I love French toast.”

“Good. It’s the only breakfast food I like making.” Jack scratched his jaw near the edge of his mask. “About the only thing you’re gonna be eating in the mornings if we do this thing.”

Rhys was fairly sure his heart just palpitated. “Um. What does. You mean..?”

Jack grimaced, flipping the toast and snatching a canister of whipped cream from the fridge. Rhys didn’t push it, sitting silently with a hammering heart as jack angrily plated the first serving of French toast. He zig zagged maple syrup on top, swirled on a blob of whipped cream, and finished with a sprinkling of powdered sugar. Rhys stared as the masterpiece was slid in front of him, mouth watering as a blush rose high in his cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to be a shit bag soul mate. Wanna start over, give me a chance here?” Jack couldn’t look Rhys in the eyes, starring just to the left of Rhys’ head.

“I would. Yes. I would really like that.” It was Rhys’ turn to be a puddle of shy anxiety unable to look directly at Jack.

“Christ, you’re adorable. I ever tell you how cute you are?” Jack knew exactly how to get Rhys all squirmy and nervous, but he loved it. Loved that smoothing his hand up Rhys’ pale throat could make the kid gulp, loved that Rhys nuzzled into his palm and looked at him with big love struck eyes.

“You’ve said something to the effect once or twice.”

“That’s not nearly enough,” Jack murmured, hand sliding around to cup the back of Rhys’ head and pulling him forward as Jack leaned in, lips pressing together soft and quick and flooding a golden glow of comfort into them both. The kiss was small, barely more than a peck, and Rhys still felt the breath leave his lungs and the blush ignite from his curled toes to ear tips. Jack snickered as he pulled away entirely, attending to the cooking food with a genuine smile.

“Maybe not, but you’re off to a good start,” Rhys sighed sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omfg its finally done i cannot believe it. tru to the title i wanted to keep this one soft and paced for a couple that hasnt really been much more than a pair of close friends crushin on one another. hopefully yall liked it? 
> 
> as always hmu over on [tumblr](http://bigevilshine.tumblr.com)  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> come punch me n the buttcheeks on [tumblr](http://bigevilshine.tumblr.com)


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